His Butler, Sidetracked
by Sabine Michaelis
Summary: Ciel has thing for desserts and this time manages to get one all over his mouth...Sebastian has to get it off, but gets a bit...distracted. Then things get really complicated. Not quite as carefree as it sounds. Assuming no Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

His Butler, Sidetracked

Sebastian entered Ciel's office quietly, pushing a cart laden with an engraved silver teapot and various teatime minutiae with one gloved hand. The boy at the desk did not acknowledge him, but from the way his shoulders tensed Sebastian could tell that he knew he was there. "Bocchan, it is time for tea. Put down your work for a while." Ciel looked up irritably, not ceasing to scribble with his pen. "I don't have time for that, Sebastian. I have things to do." Sebastian paused. Bent down as he had been, today's Ciel was little different from the one of five years ago, but sitting up straight the boy—young man—could have been an entirely different person. His previously girlish face had elongated, although his uncovered eye was as immense and emotional as ever, his frame was lankier and his shoulders just a little wider. Ciel was less pretty now, and more… handsome. Sebastian stopped himself, his eyes had begun to drift towards Ciel's lips and the triangle of pale skin left exposed by the collar of his shirt, and pushed the cart into the room.

Ciel tensed when he heard the door open. He had known that Sebastian would be coming, but the demon's entrance had still made him uncomfortable. Sebastian had had that effect on him recently, making him start and feel as if he had butterflies in his stomach. It had gotten so bad that Ciel had decreed a year ago that he would bathe and clothe himself for the foreseeable future. He had seen disappointment in Sebastian's eyes, but he couldn't let the demon see the _effect_ that he had on the youth when his gloved fingers ghosted over Ciel's exposed skin or began to unbutton…Of course Sebastian ignored him when he told him he didn't have time for tea (which was true). He worked furiously while the man expertly filled the china cup and uncovered whatever it was that was that smelled so delicious on the tray. Ciel's stomach, against the instructions of his ego, growled loudly when he detected chocolate. Sebastian chuckled quietly, placing the small plate and the cup and saucer on top of the document Ciel was working on. "I have prepared chamomile tea along with a dark chocolate soufflé, mint infused whipped cream, and a berry compote. I hope the young master enjoys his snack." Ciel was far too embarrassed to answer and let the demon leave silently. He was relieved when he had gone. The scent of the soufflé was tantalizing. He had resolved not to eat it, but it was on top of his work and he would have to get rid of it somehow…

Sebastian reentered perhaps half an hour later and noted with satisfaction that all that remained of the snack he had brought were the dishes on the cart. "I take it you appreciated my creation, Bocchan." As he had expected, the boy did not answer, but his attitude was much less irritated than it had been. Sebastian allowed himself a small smile. Ciel was still a child in some ways (like his love of sweets), and Sebastian's favorite pastime was bringing out his juvenile idiosyncrasies. Sebastian stopped, recalling the sobering news that he had just received. "I have also come to inform you, Bocchan, that the Lady Elizabeth has decided to pay a visit." The demon added casually as he rearranged the dishes on the tray so that they would not clink loudly while he rolled the cart. As he was standing within a foot of the young man, Sebastian clearly saw the muscles in Ciel's neck tense. The young man's pen froze over the paper as he croaked, "When?" Sebastian stifled a laugh at Ciel's reaction. Honestly, he didn't blame his unhappiness. Elizabeth turned the house upside down every time she visited, which was more and more often as their marriage approached. Sebastian himself held little love for the high-pitched and giggly young woman and even less for the adoring way she stared at Ciel with her unattractively dewy eyes. So it was with feigned nonchalance that Sebastian said, "Why, later this afternoon."

Ciel's insides froze. Elizabeth was coming. Soon. This was the last thing he needed. Ciel had piles of papers to look over and letters to draft and who knew what else. He certainly did not have the time or patience to deal with his _fiancée._ It wasn't like Ciel didn't like Elizabeth. He did, he even loved her to some extent, but as the years had passed the brotherly affection he held for her had ceased to be enough. She was no longer the innocent girl who longed only to make everything cute or to make Ciel pay some attention to her, Elizabeth was a young woman in love. Ciel noticed the way she looked at him, but for his own sake he pretended to be oblivious. He couldn't even begin to imagine responding to her advances. She was like his sister. His annoying, high-pitched, attention seeking, loving sister. Ciel was called back to alertness when he noticed a low chuckle emanating from Sebastian. Ciel's brows furrowed in vexation. "I don't see anything funny about this, Sebastian." Sebastian covered his mouth with a gloved hand, but he could not hide the smile in his eyes. "Of course it is not funny, but you do have a little something on your face."

Sebastian watched as the young man's face flushed with embarrassment. He swiped ineffectively at his face, only managing to make the smear of berry sauce on and around his small mouth even larger. The sauce stained his usually pale lips a delicate pink, which Sebastian couldn't help but want to taste. He stifled another small laugh as he said to the flustered youth, "It's still there. Why don't you let me get it?" He reached out and Ciel's response was immediate and alarming. The young man jerked backwards and away from Sebastian's questing hand. A pang went through the demon's heart, although he did his best not to show it. He forced a reassuring smile, "I don't bite." Ciel scowled. "Fine." Sebastian reached out for a second time, then halted. If he wiped the youth's face with his glove on, he would either have to wear the stained gloves or go bare- handed until his spare pair finished drying. Neither option was particularly appealing to him, so he gently pulled off his right glove with his teeth. Ciel flushed, if that was possible, an even deeper shade of red.

Sebastian reached out for the third time, and his fingers just grazed Ciel's soft skin when the young man pulled back in surprise. "Your fingers are freezing, Sebastian. Either get it off some other way or fetch me a mirror so I may do it myself." The demon was perplexed. If he could not use his gloves and his fingers were too cold, what did this young master expect him to remove the smear with? Then, he had idea.

Ciel's lip was still tingling from where Sebastian's finger had touched it, but that was only partly due to the cold of the man's skin. He knew his face was bright red and was doubly mortified for being mortified in the first place. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to react the way he did to Sebastian's touch. No reason for the electricity when their skin met or the warmth that radiated from his stomach all the way to the tips of his fingers. None, unless…But he could not, would not even consider that. Sebastian's burgundy eyes glittered with mischief and Ciel felt a sense of unease begin to blossom. The demon's face was suddenly far too close. And then Ciel felt the warmth of the man's tongue sliding across his upper lip. The contact made him gasp and he tried to lean away, but he was utterly immobilized. His heart pounded in his ears, his stomach felt as if it were filled with hummingbirds, his breathing hitched. Sebastian stared unblinkingly into his face, eyes unreadable, and Ciel realized what he was doing. He was _licking_ whatever it was off of his face. Effective, sure, but bloody unsettling. It wasn't a kiss, Ciel reassured himself. It was simply Sebastian's _unconventional_ solution to his problem.

Sebastian ran his tongue across Ciel's lips, tasting the sweet sauce there. He had seen his master's sapphire eye widen comically and had heard his heartbeat quicken when he had leaned forward. Surely the boy hadn't thought he was going to _kiss_ him. That would be entirely inappropriate and completely against his butler aesthetic. That wasn't to say Sebastian did not want to kiss Ciel. He did. He longed to stop playing his master's frustrating game and make his feelings, which he knew were reciprocated, known. But no, Ciel would marry the Lady Elizabeth and live a nobleman's life since Sebastian had decided he would rather live with Ciel as his unloved servant than to live without him as a free demon. This, he thought as he gently removed the last blemish from Ciel's perfect mouth, was as close as they would ever get. Sebastian withdrew an inch and looked over his handiwork. His master's delicate, pale, delicious looking lips were clean. Sebastian knew it was time to draw back and replace the literal and figurative distance between them, but… He met Ciel's eye for a moment. It was provoking him, daring him to set aside his duty for once and act.

The demon had moved back, leaving Ciel with a strange sense of disappointment and vulnerability, and was now examining his face. Suddenly, Sebastian's dark eyes flicked up to meet Ciel's. Something different was in them, something he had never before seen in the man's eyes. Ciel felt himself blush again, but held Sebastian's gaze. It was a challenge, although he had no idea what he was daring the man to do.

Then Sebastian leaned in and kissed him.

Should he pull away? Definitely. Was he going to? Never. His eyes closed. Ciel's heart felt as if it would burst. Heat engulfed his body as if he was a dry twig in a lighted fireplace. Against the orders of Ciel's ego, he felt his arms wrap around Sebastian's neck to pull him closer. This butler obeyed, twining his arms around Ciel's waist and deepening the kiss. They kissed searchingly, pleadingly, passionately as if they were drowning men whose only air was each other. Before he knew it Ciel was no longer sitting in his desk chair, but enveloped by Sebastian's warm embrace. The demon smelled of wood fires and chocolate and lavender soap and some unrecognizable spice that reminded Ciel of something wild. He drank it in, pressing himself so close to the man that he felt as if they could become one person. He could feel Sebastian's heart synching with his own. And then, abruptly, it was over. Ciel's eyes snapped oven and he was suddenly aware of how cold his office was. He was breathing hard, so was Sebastian.

Sebastian watched as the trembling Ciel sank back into his chair, hand drifting up to his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to utter any sound at all. His wide blue eye begged Sebastian not to leave, but the demon turned away and steadied himself on the cart. Although it was the last thing he wanted to say, he murmured "Lady Elizabeth is coming within a few hours and you have a great deal of work to do today." Sebastian cursed himself for the unsteadiness of his voice and closed his eyes to collect himself. "Yes." Ciel's voice was just as shaky as his had been. The single syllable, and the long silence that followed, felt like an arrow through Sebastian's heart. Wasn't he going to say anything else? Sebastian had just laid his heart bare in front of the youth. Was Ciel going to go on as if nothing had happened between them, as he had done after the fever a few years ago when a delirious Ciel had whispered, "I love you." in Sebastian's ear? Every moment seemed like an eternity while Sebastian waited, heart pounding, for another word. "But," Ciel's soft voice rang like a shot through the air, "I should like to resume our _conversation_ after dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much to all the wonderful people who gave me such positive reviews for Chapter 1. I had originally intended this story to be a one-shot, but thanks to your encouragement I wrote this second chapter. I hope you enjoy. **

His Butler, Foolish

The cake was in the oven, his spare gloves were drying, the young lord was finally dressed, the tealeaves were steeping, the parlor was clean, and everything seemed to be in order. Of course, considering who was climbing out of the carriage it would not be like that for long. Sebastian sighed inwardly and begrudgingly bowed as he opened the tall doors and gestured the Lady Elizabeth into the great hall. The young woman, festooned in pale pink silk and lace, swept in with such poise and grace that Sebastian once again found himself wondering if this was the same young lady who had bounced giggling about the mansion only a few years previously. She had certainly changed outwardly from that chittering little girl who loved pink. Elizabeth was taller now, and possessed a figure that most humans found pleasing. Her blonde ringlets, no longer tied in childish pigtails, were piled atop her head in a fashionable style that framed her face. Sebastian watched with silent sadness as the rapidly paling Ciel put on a smile and descended the stairs to greet her. They made such a lovely couple, he thought, the tall cobalt haired young man and the blonde beautiful young woman. A couple fit for royal galas and nights at the opera. The large diamond engagement ring on her left hand glittered in the afternoon sunlight. Ciel's eyes flicked down to the ring, and Sebastian saw his master's fists tighten. His own would have mimicked the gesture, had Sebastian not been the butler he was. As it was, Sebastian merely turned away and closed the doors.

Ciel descended the stairs as slowly as he could without stopping altogether, but all too soon he was standing before his smiling fiancée. He knew he should do something, hug her maybe or kiss her hand, but he settled for an awkward bow. Disappointment flashed across Elizabeth's face, sending a pang of guilt through Ciel, but in an instant it had been replaced by the usual cheery expression. The hall was silent, save for the near-inaudible footsteps of Sebastian as he went back to the kitchen to prepare tea. Ciel shot a desperate look at the man's retreating back, silently summoning him. But the demon ignored him. Lizzie cleared her throat softly and Ciel turned his attention back to her. She didn't say anything, just looked at Ciel as if _he_ was supposed to initiate conversation. He supposed her mother had chastised her after last month's trip to London. Perhaps, Ciel thought, if he didn't say anything she would have to leave. The same thought must have crossed her mind because she looked up at him with pleading eyes. He sighed inwardly, "Good afternoon, Elizabeth. To what to we owe this visit?" She sprung into action like a wound up toy, face immediately taking on a dramatic pout, "Oh, Ciel, does a woman need an excuse to visit her fiancée? Can't I just come over?" Ciel wasn't sure how to respond, but she didn't give him the chance.

Sebastian entered the parlor a little less silently than usual, allowing the faint clattering of late afternoon tableware to give him away. Ciel, from where he sat with the young duchess on a pale blue chaise lounge, glanced up with a mixture of relief and guilt. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sebastian allowed himself to smile softly at his master, who tried to hide his sudden blush from Elizabeth by faking a sneeze. The young woman, dewy eyes comically wide, proffered a pink handkerchief edged in gold, but Ciel waved it away. They returned to their conversation, Elizabeth leaning in close to brush a piece of imaginary lint from Ciel's lapel. Sebastian's stomach clenched and he directed his attention towards the silver tea set, which he had polished to perfection earlier, and away from his master and his wife-to-be.

Sebastian's entrance had made the previously dormant butterflies in Ciel's stomach begin fluttering again. His every lithe movement drew Ciel's eye away from Lizzie and took his mind off whatever it was that she was prattling about. Ciel had no doubt the man knew the effect he was having, because he had _never_ seen Sebastian set a table as slowly as he was doing at that moment. Every piece of silver took him an inordinate amount of time to place and replace, every cup of tea an eternity to pour. He moved with the languid feline grace that Ciel found so alluring and from time to time would glance in Ciel's direction, but not directly at him, as if he were looking at something on the lawn outside the window. More likely, Ciel thought with irritation, he was just being annoying. "Ciel, I know you're hungry but could you please try to listen to what I'm saying?" exclaimed Lizzie exasperatedly. "I am listening." Ciel replied absently, trying very hard not to watch the way the light highlighted Sebastian's high cheekbones as he placed the last touches on the table. Suddenly a hand on Ciel's cheek forced him to turn. He shied away instinctively and saw hurt flare in his cousin's eyes. It made his insides twist with guilt. "Listen, Ciel, I know you don't want to talk about these things, but we have to sometime." With her left hand, she pushed a yellow curl behind her ear and the engagement ring sparkled in the sunlight. Ciel's self-reproach grew as the hated diamond stared at him like a glittering eye. _"Look at her, Ciel."_ It seemed to say, _"Do you even see what you are doing to her? Do you even care?"_ He swallowed. His throat was dry. "I know, Lizzie. I promise I'll do better." But he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise.

Ciel dismissed Sebastian while the two dined. If had been up to the man, he would have never left the two alone together, but of course it was not. So Sebastian prowled the halls of the manor, thinking about Ciel. What would they do now? He wondered. He had refused to kill Ciel because he had not wanted to part with him and remaining with him as the Phantomhive butler had seemed the best way, especially as he had never planned on exposing his feelings for Ciel, but now? Ciel would be married soon; and that would be an entirely different sort of parting for the two. Noblemen often kept mistresses, but Sebastian knew in his heart of hearts that his master could never hurt his cousin that way. And so the combination of a loveless marriage and relationship that could never come to fruition would slowly tear him apart until one day Sebastian took pity on him and consumed his soul. And this was assuming that Sebastian himself did not choose to leave, rather than watch his own heart breaking slowly. Sebastian stopped walking and absently wiped a smudge from a Chinese vase on one of the tables. Perhaps it would be better for him to leave now, before things became too complicated, but the very thought elicited pain. From inside one of the rooms, the chiming of a clock alerted him to the time. It was about time he returned to clean up and remind Elizabeth that she was expected home before the dinner hour. Sebastian smiled to himself, thoughts of leaving pushed away for now.

Lizzie smiled at Ciel with such innocent happiness it made his heart ache. "Thank you so much, Ciel. It really does mean a lot to me." Ciel did not trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded. He heard the door open and saw from the corner of his eye that Sebastian had reentered with his cart and was beginning to clear the table. He started when he felt Lizzie's hand slide over his own, but did not pull away this time. When he looked up at her she was smiling at him, but in a way that was entirely unfamiliar. "You know, Ciel," she murmured, staring at him through her eyelashes, "I'm really happy that you're my fiancée." Ciel's eyes stung as he fought back tears of guilt and frustration. If she knew the truth she would not be smiling. It would shatter her and all her dreams of a perfect life with a perfect husband and perfect happiness. She would despise him, be disgusted by him, and for good reason. He forced a smile, but could not speak for fear that the truth would come tumbling out. Lizzie did not seem to require an answer, for she was leaning towards him. Ciel's stomach was somewhere around his toes. Was she going to kiss him? She came closer. Yes. His heart was pounding in his head, but not in anticipation, in dread. He couldn't possibly. He wouldn't. But…

You deserve happiness, Lizzie.

The sound of a delicate china teacup smashing on the wood floor gave Ciel the escape he was desperate for. He twisted around to see Sebastian kneeling and collecting broken pieces of teacup off the floor. "What on earth happened?" his voice was louder than he had intended. Sebastian did not look at him when he replied. "My apologies, Bocchan. It slipped from my grasp." "Perhaps I ought to go. It's getting late." Lizzie said quietly, standing up with a rustling of skirts. Ciel also stood, "Shall I show you out?" Lizzie was staring past Ciel with a strange expression on her face. "No." she said with surprising firmness. Then she seemed to compose herself and retooled her answer with false cheer and a smile that did not reach her eyes, "I'll be fine. I should get used to navigating this house on my own, anyway. I will be the _mistress_ of it soon enough." Ciel had a feeling that she was not talking to him. She left the room quickly and once she was gone Ciel collapsed back onto the chaise. He felt strangely empty inside, as if he had just been crying.

Sebastian watched the young man fall back onto the couch. He looked pale and sickly. Sebastian had no doubts as to why. Honestly, the nerve of that girl. And the way she had spoken to him in the end, as if he were no more than…a butler. The indignation drained from him. That was all he was to her. Ciel broke the silence suddenly, his voice slightly hoarse "You had no right to do as you did, Sebastian. It was childish and foolish." Sebastian's eyebrows rose, but he kept his tone even. He knew how his master could be sometimes. The best thing to do was simply to feign innocence. "I don't know what you mean." "You know exactly what I mean!" Ciel snapped, twisting around and glaring at Sebastian, "You never drop anything, Sebastian. You don't have accidents!" He shouted. Sebastian's teeth clenched. Ciel had no reason to be angry. Sebastian wasn't stupid; he had seen the look of comic relief on the young man's face when he had escaped that girl's clumsy advance. But he kept his voice calm. It wouldn't do to engage in a shouting match. "So what if I did do it on purpose?" He stacked the dessert plates. "You didn't seem to displeased at the time." "That's not the point!" Ciel shouted and Sebastian snarled, "Then how about this one: Did you honestly expect me to stand by and watch you—" "Yes!" Ciel interrupted, standing up and glowering at Sebastian. "Yes. I expect you to stand by and watch me kiss my _fiancée_." The young man hissed the word with such venom that Sebastian was given pause. The atmosphere of the room thrummed with tension. "Even after—" He began more quietly, but the young man cut him off again, voice dangerously low, "Nothing, Sebastian." The demon froze, a napkin half folded in his hands.

No.

"Nothing happened between us. Nothing can have happened." The napkin fell to the floor, fluttering sadly in the air like the last flag on a blood-soaked battlefield.

No.

"How can a Phantomhive Earl shrink away from his wife-to-be and seek comfort in the arms of his butler? How can he seek comfort in the arms of his demon?"

Each word felt like a red-hot poker stabbing Sebastian. Demons could not cry, but at that moment he felt as if he would. How could he have been so stupid? So selfish? To forget who and what they were. Demons were supposed to have more control over their emotions than humans, and yet Sebastian had allowed himself to get lost in his affection for his _master_. Sebastian felt utterly empty. Completely gutted, as if he were a chicken being served up at a feast. He wanted to collapse in on himself and disappear, but he knew he could not do that. If a Phantomhive butler could not do at least this, what good would he be at all? He stared at Ciel's one eye, as hard and cold as the jewel it so resembled, and tried to control himself. He had known this was coming, anyway, so there was no point in grieving. No point. So Sebastian did the only thing he could think to do.

Ciel felt as if he were being ripped in two as Sebastian's face became impassive stone. His butler bowed, stiffly and more formally than he had in years. "I apologize, my lord, for forgetting my place. It will not happen again." He said, voice painfully even and emotionless. Then he rose and left the now silent room. He had left the cart of dishes standing by the table. The white napkin was still lying on the floor. Ciel stood for a moment after he had gone, eyes glazed, mind in turmoil over what he had done. Then he fell to his knees and his shoulders curled until he was just a small silent shape on the floor.

You deserve happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

His Butler, Frozen

There was only one word that could describe Sebastian's conduct over the past few weeks. Cold. He performed every task to perfection, but he, the kind puckish demon that Ciel had come to love, was somewhere else entirely. Ever since that day, the man who had once been friend, confidant, and perhaps more, was no more than a butler. Ciel, who had been slowly undressing in front of the clouded bathroom mirror, stopped suddenly and wiped a circle of condensation from the glass. His pale, sullen face stared back, the violet pentagram on his right eye accusing. _"Nothing happened between us."_ The words echoed around the inside of his head and he wondered, once again, if he had done the right thing. At the time, it had seemed logical, advisable even, to end things before they became too tangled, but now…The mirror clouded, and Ciel finished undressing. He slid into the large bathtub, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back onto the edge. Sebastian's face came into his mind's eye. Pained, as he dropped the white napkin onto the floor. Had it been the right thing to do? Ciel's fists clenched, short nails digging into his palms. _"I'm really happy that you're my fiancée." _Lizzie's sincere face filled his mind. She deserved happiness, of that Ciel was sure. It would be best for all of them if Ciel just forgot his tainted affection forever. Sebastian's heart would heal. But could his own?

Sebastian was a demon and, like all demons, had supreme control over his emotions. Even so, it had taken all the strength he had to get up the morning after that disastrous day and make breakfast. Unable to look his master in the eye after what had happened, he had moved through his duties like a specter. Every word the young man spoke sounded too much like those words: _"Nothing happened between us."_ He had not even been able to return to the parlor to finish gathering the things from that day's tea. Instead, he had sent Mey-Rin, which had ended in the rest of the tea set being smashed. Sebastian had not minded, neglecting to even scold the clumsy maid. She had peered at him strangely through round lenses and asked if he was feeling well. He hadn't replied. Standing now, with his hand resting on the closed door of Ciel's bathroom, Sebastian listened to the young man's steady breathing and the beating of his heart. He should be in the kitchen, he knew, but he was reluctant to end the moment. He enjoyed sharing the silence and the stillness, since they no longer shared anything else. He allowed his breaths to synchronize with his master's until he heard the water sloshing as Ciel clambered out of the tub. The butler sighed, and then retreated into the darkened hallways of the house.

_Darkness enveloped Ciel. A coarse blindfold was tied around his eyes and manacles chafed at his wrists. He crouched in the corner of the cage, shivering like a frightened animal. He was freezing cold, and his bare body was wracked with the agony of days of hunger and thirst. Voices came from outside, echoing in the stone hallways. Loud, angry, laughter that chilled him further. Then the rattle of keys. rough hands. the stinging of a knife slicing his skin. And a searing, burning pain in his side. He would not scream. He would not give them the pleasure of hearing his cries. More pain. His skin blistered and charred. Warm blood covering his cold skin. More hands, holding him down to a stone table. He screamed._

"Sebastian!" Ciel woke up with tears streaming down his face and the name on his lips. He closed his mouth quickly, half hoping the demon had not heard and half hoping that he had. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled into a ball, trying to quiet the sobs that wracked his frame. He shivered, remembering the dream and the true memories it had been drawn from. That had been seven years ago, and yet the nightmares still found him sometimes. He hugged himself tighter, trying not to want the comforting arms of Sebastian as much as he did. The warm embrace, the whispered consolations. "Sebastian." He whispered, so quietly he could barely hear it himself, and his tears flowed even faster. He was no longer crying about his dreams, but about everything else. Sebastian. Elizabeth. Himself. He stopped trying to quiet his weeping and just let himself cry. What did he have to fear? No one would hear him. Sebastian would not come. He would never come again.

From the corner of the dark room, Sebastian watched Ciel cry. He watched the thin shoulders shake until he feared they would break in half and the tears cascade down the flushed cheeks until the sheets were damp. Every part of him ached to enclose the shuddering shoulders in his embrace and hold Ciel until his tears stopped. It was only a few steps away. It would take less than a second. But the young man might as well have been miles away. Sebastian was frozen in place, too frightened even to breathe, lest his master realize that he was witnessing this. Ciel's sobs intensified and Sebastian reached out, tracing the outline of the boy's form with his fingertips. One foot slid infinitesimally forward. In an instant he could be stroking the soft blue-black hair and feeling the thudding heartbeat slow. _"How can a Phantomhive Earl shrink away from his wife-to-be and seek comfort in the arms of his butler?" _Sebastian's hand curled into a fist and fell limply to his side. "_How can he seek comfort in the arms of his demon?" _Sebastian took a step back. His eyes stung nearly as much as the mark on the back of his hand. Sebastian could not take it any longer. He turned to leave. "Sebastian." Ciel whispered, so softly it was like a breath of wind. The demon was ensnared, caught like an insect in a spider's web.

At some point, Ciel cried himself into an uneasy slumber. His dreams were fragmented and vague, a whirl of color and sound that morphed from one image to another. The only constants were the warmth that enveloped him and the feeling of another heartbeat matching the pace of his own. They lulled him into a deeper sleep, peaceful and free of dreams. Sunlight woke him in the morning, along with the soft rustling of curtains being pushed aside. "It is time to wake up, Bocchan." Came the familiar toneless voice from somewhere across the room. Ciel groaned and shifted, although it was mostly out of habit. In actuality, he felt more rested than he had in weeks. His neck was not sore and his limbs not nearly as heavy as they usually were in the mornings. He opened his mouth to voice his customary complaint: "Must you always wake me so bloody early, Sebastian?". Then closed it. He stretched, keeping his eyes closed for as long as possible in an attempt to retain the warmth and contentment that he remembered from his dreams. At last, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He blinked his eyes open to see Sebastian with his back to him. The man reached up to open another curtain, leonine muscles rippling beneath the black jacket. Not that again. Ciel squeezed his eyes shut. "Must you always wake me so bloody early, Sebastian?"

Sebastian heard the well-known words and felt at once very relieved, although a little disappointed. His master was acting normally, therefore he could have no memory of what had happened. Good. He would not have been pleased, had he remembered. "_How can he seek comfort in the arms of his demon?" _he had perhaps it was I who sought comfort, my lord. Sebastian thought, recalling with chagrin how desperately he had clutched Ciel after the young man had called for him. His own body had shaken with Ciel's sobs until he felt as if he were crying with him. He pushed the memories away, schooled his face into an emotionless mask, and turned to face the tousled youth sitting cross-legged on the large bed. Ciel's hair was unkempt and his movements childishly uncoordinated as he rubbed his eyes. Sebastian smiled fondly, then quickly returned to stoicism before Ciel could see. He had already failed once in his attempt to suppress his love, but had been saved by Ciel's forgetfulness. It would not do to fail again.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

His Butler, Disquieted

The note caught Sebastian by surprise. Ciel did not often receive small notes of the sort; usually the mail boy delivered only thick sheaves of paper, manila envelopes, sealed letters from Her Majesty, and the odd package. The heavy ivory paper was folded into thirds and tied with a pink ribbon. The moment the boy placed it in his hands, the smell of Lady Elizabeth's perfume assaulted the demon's senses. Sebastian froze, the paper dangling from his hand. There was only one reason for his master's fiancée to send any sort of correspondence to the house. Elizabeth was coming. His teeth clenched as a thousand thoughts flashed across his mind. "Is there something wrong, sir?" asked the boy, who still stood on the other side of the gate. "It's none of your concern." Sebastian snapped, tucking the paper into his breast pocket. "Have you anything else?" The boy cowered under the demon's glare, "No, sir." He muttered towards the ground. "Good day, then." Sebastian's voice came out with a bitter edge that he had not intended and the boy scampered off, large mailbag banging against his side. He regretted snapping at the child. The boy could be no more than eleven and he wasn't responsible for the news he delivered. Still, Sebastian removed the note once more and looked over it, any news delivered with the cloying scent of his master's fiancée was terrible news.

Ciel sat at his desk, eyes glazed, quill poised over a blank sheet of paper. The pen had been still for so long that the ink had dripped out and formed a large black stain on the corner of the paper. Ciel had not even noticed. His mind was elsewhere, mired in guilt and fatigue. Suddenly, the door to his study opened, causing him to tense and look up. Sebastian entered, sending an odd sort of shiver down the young man's spine, holding a silver tray in one hand. Ciel's brow furrowed and his eyes flicked to the clock on his desk. It was not yet time for tea. Moreover, the tray that Sebastian now proffered did not contain the usual assortment of sweet things. Instead, a small folded note rested on the engraved surface. Ciel did not take it. He wanted Sebastian to say something, anything, but the butler remained stony. After a long and awkward pause the young man took the paper in silence, noting the pink ribbon and the faint scent of familiar perfume. In one movement, he slid off the ribbon and unfolded the note.

Ciel,

Would you mind terribly if I came over this afternoon? The weather is lovely and I thought we might take tea in the garden.

Love,

Lizzie

A groan escaped Ciel's lips when he finished reading the note. Then he re-read it, hoping that a second glance would make the news enclosed less awful. It didn't. He opened his mouth to curse loudly, then closed it and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt as if he had been kicked in the chest by a horse, then dragged through the cold and muddy streets of London by his ankles before being strung up in a tree. A hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, causing Ciel's entire body to erupt in warmth. "Are you alright, Bocchan?" Sebastian's concerned voice, as well as the sudden contact, caught him by surprise. It had been so long… Ciel looked up, hope flaring unbidden inside him, all thoughts of talkative cousins forgotten. Their eyes met for an instant and Ciel stared searchingly into unreadable burgundy eyes. Then Sebastian pulled his hand back and looked away. Ciel felt his stomach twist as he dropped his eyes to his desk. Of course. _"How can a Phantomhive Earl shrink away from his wife-to-be and seek comfort in the arms of his butler?" _He tried to keep his voice steady. "Elizabeth is coming for tea. She wants to eat out in the garden, it seems."

Sebastian's heart was still pounding as he stirred the molten chocolate in the double boiler. He had failed yet again to keep his emotions out of the way of his work. What had come over him? But the question was entirely pointless. He knew exactly what it had been. The sudden paleness of Ciel's skin, the way his breath had hitched as he read the note. Touching his master had been an entirely involuntary reaction, an act of comfort that would have been entirely justified. He lifted the pot off the stove and began to pour the viscous liquid into the hollow pastry shells sitting on the cookie sheet beside him. Would have been, but wasn't. _"How can a Phantomhive Earl shrink away from his wife-to-be and seek comfort in the arms of his butler?" _Sebastian winced at the memory, still as fresh as if the words still hung in the air of the parlor. He was a butler, nothing more. He could not afford to forget that again. Once he had finished he placed the empty pot in the sink and checked his pocket watch. Only half an hour left. With sudden animosity, he kicked at the cabinet. He wasn't sure whom he was lashing out at. Elizabeth? Ciel? Himself? It didn't matter anymore. Sebastian's breath was unsteady as he put his head in his hands. Peeking out through his fingers, he noted the new dent in the metal and was momentarily thankful for his dulled sense of physical pain. If only emotional pain were as dull.

Perhaps it was Ciel's imagination, but from the moment she stepped out of the carriage onto the drive, Elizabeth seemed to be acting very oddly. Her smile was off somehow, not to mention that she was not wearing any of her trademark pink frills. She spoke more softly and slowly, letting long periods of awkward silence stretch between them while they walked out to the gazebo. It was unnerving. At last, when she had been silent for several minutes Ciel garnered enough courage to ask, "Is something bothering you?" She let out a quick breath and stroked the engagement ring on her gloved hand before looking Ciel straight in the eyes. It caught him off guard, as did the realization that she had the beginnings of shadows beneath her wide green eyes. What was going on? Sebastian entered the pavilion, bearing plates and silverware. Ciel watched in confusion as Elizabeth glanced over at him and something unreadable passed across her face. She stood abruptly, eyes still on the manservant, and grabbed Ciel's hand. "Walk with me." It was not a request.

Sebastian watched with curiosity and a twinge of annoyance as Elizabeth dragged a bewildered Ciel out of his chair. There was something distinctly different about his master's fiancée. And the way she had reacted upon seeing him was interesting, to say the least. For a moment, she had not looked like a cheerful young noblewoman at all. She had looked very old, and very sad. Guilt twanged in his chest. Could she know? Impossible. Had he been any less than the butler he was, he would have paused and frowned as they disappeared into the trees, but as he was not, he simply set the table with the indigo enamel and gold edged teacups, saucers, and dessert plates. There was no reason for her to draw any conclusions. He had been sloppy, it was true, but not so sloppy that the love struck and near-oblivious young lady would have noticed his feelings. Sebastian did stop, then, but only to make sure that the silver was properly aligned. If she had noticed, Sebastian's stupidity could end Ciel's one chance at true conventional happiness. Sebastian went back inside to get the éclairs.

They walked in silence, Ciel more confused than ever. Lizzie's grip on his hand was tight and her walk fast and purposeful. The only sounds were that of the forest, the rustling of her skirts, and the sound of Ciel's boots on the ground. As silence stretched on, Ciel's sense of foreboding grew. What was the meaning of all this? The abrupt self-invitation to tea? Her strange behavior? Her reaction to Sebastian, almost as if she were running from him? This trek in the woods? Ciel wanted to stop and demand to know what was going on, but the look on his cousin's face stopped him. She looked… aged, tired, unhappy. Ciel felt guilt swell in his chest. He had driven her to this, he knew. Maybe it was the disinterest he showed in the wedding preparations, which they were beginning although the event was two years off. Maybe his unwillingness to go shopping with her or attend dinner parties in London. Maybe it was his constant excuses of work to spend less time with her. Maybe it was… Sebastian. His insides knotted painfully. She didn't know. She couldn't. But if she did, his stupidity could end Lizzie's one chance of true conventional happiness. And however annoying his cousin might be, however trapped his marriage might make him, and however he felt about Sebastian, he could not let that happen. He could not watch her innocent smile die.

At last, when they were quite far from the house, Elizabeth stopped and let go of his hand. The birds chattered in the trees above them, filling the gaping silence until she finally spoke, her back still to him. "You know, Ciel, I think this is the first time I've ever seen you." The remark, and the quaver in her voice, startled him. He hid his confusion with a scoff, hoping his reaction could make her behave normally again. "Don't be ridiculous, we've known each other for over ten years." She laughed, a brittle birdlike sound that made Ciel uncomfortable, and turned towards him. "No, Ciel. I mean _really_ seen you." Her voice sped up, as if she were forcing out the words as fast as possible before she lost her nerve. "All my life I've only seen what I wanted to see, not what was there. But...I suppose I've grown up a little since then." Ciel swallowed. He wasn't sure how to reply. She was staring at him with an intensity that threw him completely off guard. "Ciel, I'm going to go straight to the point." He steeled himself for the tears, the accusations. After a pause that seemed to last an eternity, Lizzie spoke again. "Sebastian is in love with you." Ciel froze. His heart stopped, his breath ceased, and the whole world seemed to slow to a halt. Everything was still, like a stream suddenly frozen mid trickle. The birds hung in the sky. The insects halted mid-buzz. The motes of dust in the sunlit air were like spiders encased in amber. Then the world stuttered back to life and he gasped like a fish out of water. He was aware of Lizzie's eyes on him, but could not meet them. He spluttered, "Don't be- What on earth are you—""And you love him, too. " Lizzie's words cut through the air like a dagger and pierced Ciel, deflating him. The words that had been hanging in the air for years had finally been spoken. He didn't have the heart to try and retract them, to lie outright to Lizzie. His heart pounded in his ears, so loudly that he could barely hear Lizzie's next words, which were barely a whisper. "I'm right, aren't I?" Ciel clenched his fists and stared at his shoes. He could salvage this. But, did he want to? Wouldn't it be better to just let things fall the way they would? No. He spoke tonelessly, barely hearing his own mechanical response. "It doesn't matter. I'm marrying you. That much has been set—""I don't want you to marry me, Ciel!" His cousin shouted, startling a flock of birds and forcing Ciel to look at her. She was crying as she spoke. "Not if it hurts you. All I want is for you to be happy, and if you are happy with someone else… so be it. You deserve happiness, Ciel. After a life of solving other people's problems, feeling their pain, suffering for their mistakes…" Her voice trailed off, to be replaced by quiet sniffling. " Lizzie…" Ciel whispered, unsure what else to say, if there was anything else to say. He reached out, but she shrugged off his comfort and wiped her face with a pink edged handkerchief. She didn't look at him, speaking instead at the forest floor, "Sebastian should be finished setting the table by now."

It seemed to Sebastian that something very important had happened during their walk in the woods. Ciel returned shaky and silent, whereas his fiancée seemed revitalized. She spoke a mile a minute although, oddly, did not mention wedding preparations even once. She smiled and chattered as if her last visit had never happened, paying no attention to Ciel's dour expression or lack of appetite. Ciel did not even finish his éclair; although Sebastian had taken special care to make sure the recipe was perfect. He let his tea sit; only taking small sips after long periods of stillness. Sebastian worried over him, refilling his teacup every few minutes, although he had barely consumed anything, and standing as close by his side as possible without being conspicuous. He desperately wished he could find out what that girl had done to upset him so, or at least offer some small form of comfort, but there was nothing he could do. He had never, in all his years, felt as helpless as he did standing next to his master then. The only thing he hated more than feeling helpless was that damnable Elizabeth, for making him so. Finally, she stood to leave, prompting Sebastian to sigh inwardly in relief. Instead of saying goodbye, however, she stood silently for a long moment. She was no longer smiling as she smoothed the front of her dress nervously. Sebastian watched her in irritation. If she was going to say something she had better say it quickly. The silly girl had done enough damage to his master for the day. "Remember what I said, cousin. " her tone was brisk and businesslike, belying the discomfort evident in her movements. "I'll talk to my mother this afternoon, tell her we're so close as cousins I couldn't imagine living as your wife." Sebastian stiffened. He hadn't heard her correctly, obviously. It had been a trick of his strained mind, a phantasm brought to life by stress. But no, the demon watched in growing horror as Elizabeth removed her diamond engagement ring. She stared at it wistfully, lying in the palm of her hand, then knelt next to Ciel's ashen form. Sebastian found himself utterly immobile as the young woman, with an expression out of place on any her age, placed the ring in his master's hand and gently closed his fingers around the glittering stone. "Goodbye, Ciel." She whispered, standing. Then she turned to look at straight at Sebastian for only the second time since they had met, and something hard came into her eyes. "Goodbye, Sebastian. I just hope you aren't as foolish as my cousin or all my effort will have been in vain."

She swept out of the gazebo, leaving Ciel in turmoil. Had that really happened? He felt as if he were in a dream, sluggish and confused. He looked down at the ring, which glittered in his palm. _"Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you?"_ it seemed to murmur maliciously,_ "You got your freedom, even if it cost her happiness. But what was she to you, really?"_ Ciel closed his hand in a fist, then closed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

His Butler, Longing

Ciel was in his office but, as was becoming the norm, was getting no work done. The stacks of papers on his desk were high and tottering, but Ciel, who stood facing the large window behind his desk, could not have cared less. There was something far more enrapturing than any letter outside his window. It was sunset, and Sebastian was on the lawn scolding Finny for ruining the now irregularly shaped hedges yet again. Ciel watched intently as the butler reprimanded the small quivering gardener. He was not shouting, of course, but it was clear from the tilt of his head that he was more than a little irritated. Ciel's uncovered sapphire eye roved over every inch of the tall man, from the way the breeze played with the dark hair to the steady tapping of his shined shoes. He memorized every line with an intensity that bothered even him. But he could not stop himself. It had been over a month since Elizabeth had broken off their engagement. Over a month, and yet nothing had turned out as he had tentatively hoped. Although, he supposed, he had gotten what he deserved. Ciel sighed, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. He had stripped his cousin of her love, and no matter how many times she assured him that she was happy as long as he was, he knew she was lying. He could see the pain on her face when she had come over for tea the manor a week ago. If she, kind and innocent, could not have her heart's desire what chance did someone like Ciel have? He stroked the windowpane, letting himself imagine that he could touch Sebastian through it. There was nothing standing between them now, save a thin windowpane and a few meters of grass. That, and everything else. Lizzie was no longer his fiancée, but she might as well have been. Perhaps it would have been better that way, for at least then Ciel could have a satisfactory excuse for the distance he and Sebastian maintained from one another. They did a delicate dance of silence and avoidance, a dance that Ciel felt he couldn't keep up forever. But he saw no way of stopping. How could he retract the words he had said? How could he apologize for the things he had not?

Sebastian felt a familiar gaze on him as he glared down at Finny. The young man was hunched over, straw hat tilted down and obscuring his face. No wonder, Sebastian thought irritably, he had botched the hedges again. He probably couldn't see past the ridiculous thing. The intense gaze from the window of his master's study made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. It irked him, and in a sudden burst of irritation the demon snatched the hat off of Finny's blonde head and hurled it away. The young man's eyes were wide and watery. He shrunk down further, clearly afraid of what the butler would do next. "Do you understand me, Finny?" Sebastian finished in a low, menacing tone. The large yellow thatched head nodded vigorously and muttered a "Yes, sir." before Finny took off running in the direction of his hat. The gaze still bored into him as Sebastian, energy suddenly sapped, headed for the back door. Just as he entered the clock struck, reminding him that he ought to begin dinner preparations. He had, Sebastian thought as he rummaged in the pantry for dried rosemary, been harsher on the young man than he had deserved. It was only a plant, after all. It would grow back. He sighed. This was not the first time he had taken his frustration out on the other servants. Over the past few months even Mey-Rin, the oblivious and still hopelessly in love maid, had opted to avoid him at all costs. He had once prided himself on his control, but things were… different now. He had once thought that Lady Elizabeth was the only barrier between Ciel and him, but these days he would rather she was the barrier than the invisible wall that kept them apart now. The hatred that he had once nursed towards the girl, who had turned out to be kinder and more intelligent than he had once thought, now had no object. No object, that is, but its owner.

It was dark now, and the window behind Ciel's desk had become a dark mirror that showed only the mismatched eyes Ciel could not stand to examine. He was back at his desk now, trying in vain to get a little work done before dinner. He was halfway through a letter to one of the heads of a Funtom factory in Vienna, a silly man who wanted to expand though he could barely coax full production out of his own operation. Normally the man's stupidity would have irritated him, but tonight the young man was merely numb. His wide blue eye was glazed as he moved to draft a reply. He picked up the pen and pressed it to the paper, unthinkingly harder than he meant to, and the silver nib snapped off with a pop. The noise startled him and his hand spasmed, dropping the pen and allowing it to roll off the edge of his desk. Ciel cursed under his breath and opened a drawer to search for another pen. He found one, and something else hastily discarded in the same drawer. From among the wads of paper and wells of dried ink the diamond glittered, staring up at Ciel with its familiar disdain. Lizzie's ring. He had put it in there after that disastrous lunch, half hoping it would get lost in the mess and that he could forget it had ever existed. But the ring, like the guilt and memories, was still there. Out of sight, but not gone. With a trembling hand he gripped the cold metal of the band and let it rest in his palm. With nothing to reflect but the pallor of his skin the diamond appeared white and when he stared into its depths he could see… a white napkin, crumpled on the rug. Ciel's eyes stung and he closed his fingers over the jewel, frigid as a corpse in his hand. He didn't want to remember that day, or what he had said. But trying to forget had done nothing for him, only deepened the chasm between them. The diamond peeked out from behind Ciel's fingers, but this time it spoke in Lizzie's voice "_You deserve happiness, Ciel."_ He wasn't sure he believed it, but a glimmer of hope stirred in the depths of his soul.

The clock struck. It was time for dinner. Sebastian had already laid out the array of dishes for his master, all steaming on silver platters set off by the pristine white of the starched tablecloth. The single napkin, pale blue with silver tassels, flanked the porcelain plate on one side and the sparkling crystal glass the other. The silverware was polished to perfection, and reflected the gilded ceiling. Whatever the turmoil in Sebastian's mind, he performed his tasks diligently. If a Phantomhive butler cannot even do this…he thought to himself as he surveyed his handiwork. Never mind that the dishes were seasoned with sorrow and the napkin pressed with a trembling hand, it was done. And done, if he could say so himself, quite elegantly. Usually he would stand behind his master's chair as the young man ate, so as to make sure his every need was fulfilled, but tonight Sebastian was not at all sure that he was up to the task. He was not sure that he could face the cold blue eye that stared _past_ rather than at him, these days. But Sebastian was a Phantomhive butler, and a glutton for punishment. When Ciel entered, eyes downcast, Sebastian stayed where he was. Though they did not acknowledge one another, Sebastian still felt a strange warmth due to his presence. He watched his master as if he were a blind man seeing for the first time. He catalogued every tilt of the head, every movement of the fine boned hands, every flicker in the dimmed but still stunning azure eye. And since his young master could not see him, he allowed the familiar fondness to creep slowly into his features. He couldn't help it, really. At last the pale hands stilled and the napkin was replaced. The earl stood and made to leave, but then something strange happened. He hesitated, and for a moment Sebastian thought that Ciel might turn and look at him, might say something. But the hesitation lasted only a moment and the young man left the room quickly without saying a word. He had not looked at Sebastian once during the entire meal. As the door swung shut Sebastian deflated. Though his posture was as erect as ever, as befitting a butler, he suddenly felt as if all the strength had gone from his limbs. Nothing had changed. He wondered if he would ever see Ciel's sapphire eye again, sparking with mischief or contained laughter. No, he sighed. He had lost that right. Sebastian began to clear the table slowly, methodically. He used the task to take his mind off of things, or tried to. But however he tried his mind wandered back to Ciel. As he lifted the lacquered porcelain plate, stacking the silver on it carefully, something fell to the ground with a small thud. Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw something glitter on the carpet. With the plate still deftly balanced on one hand, the demon bent to pick it up.

Though Ciel was wrapped in a dressing gown over his pajamas and was wrapped in his blankets as tightly as a gift, he was chilled to the bone. It was still summer, but the manor had a habit of trapping the drafts from the dead of winter in its walls, especially in Ciel's room. He shivered, but made no move to light the fire. That was one of the things that despite numerous attempts he had never been able to do on his own. So he sat stiffly and nervously, waiting although he was not entirely sure what for. He heard his bedroom door open slowly and felt his heart skip a beat. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian enter—looking slightly distracted. One gloved hand was closed around something—the something Ciel had been too insecure to give him in person, the something Ciel hoped might—Sebastian cleared his throat quietly from the corner. Though Ciel longed to turn and look at the man, he did not, he could not. "Yes, what is it?" Ciel hated the waver in his voice. There was a long pause before Sebastian responded, in which Ciel's heart beat so fast he though it might burst from his chest. "Bocchan," the silky voice began "you accidentally left the engagement ring on your dessert plate this evening." Another long pause. At last, Ciel couldn't stand it and he cautiously looked up at Sebastian. He was only a few paces away and proffered the ring with one hand. Ciel's eyes flicked from the ring in his hand to the downcast burgundy eyes that gleamed more brightly than the jewel in the candlelight. He scanned Sebastian's face and it's studiedly blank expression. He examined the long limbs, broad shoulders, and crisp suit. In all outward appearance Sebastian was the same as he had always been, but… There was a sadness in his eyes. A sadness that Ciel was responsible for putting there. He wanted to say so many things to Sebastian then. And unsay so many others. He opened his mouth, but the words would not come. So he simply said, "It wasn't an accident." The words were sharper than he had meant them to be, and the other man might have flinched. Or maybe it was just the flickering candlelight.

Sebastian felt the sting of those few words and wanted to disappear. But he could not, so he kept his face passive and said quietly, "I apologize for my mistake." With limbs that felt stiff he bowed low. He could feel Ciel's eyes intent on his every movement, but resisted the urge to meet them and kept his gaze down as he made to place the ring on his master's bedside table. "I don't want it." Sebastian froze, hand hovering over the table and he looked at the young man sitting on the bed in confusion. Their eyes met. Violet and blue stared back at him. The mismatched orbs were troubled, but revealed nothing else. "Then" Sebastian paused, looking for any sign at all upon the other's doll-like features, "would you prefer me to dispose of it for you?" "No." Ciel blurted suddenly. Sebastian straightened in surprise and their eye contact broke. The young man appeared to be struggling with something though he tried to school his frowning features into impassivity. "I want you to…" he paused, searching for the words and finding them with difficulty, "keep it, Sebastian." Ciel locked eyes with him as he spoke the words with a strange gentleness. A long moment passed, a moment that felt like a lifetime. Neither said a word, only stared searchingly into the other's face. There was something there, Sebastian could see it stirring behind the bright eyes. Sebastian had butterflies in his stomach. Then the moment passed and Sebastian looked away, telling himself not to be ridiculous. "Of course." He replied as coolly as ever, "I shall keep it safe until you find another fiancée."

Ciel watched Sebastian leave the room. His eyes were glued to the door long after the man had disappeared.

Sebastian quietly closed and locked the door of his small room. It was pitch dark, but with a flick of his wrist he lit the fire…It was a foolish impulse, the demon knew. This ring had been made for another finger—the delicate digit of a noblewoman. And yet… In the flickering firelight Sebastian could almost pretend that it, and the man to whom it belonged, were his. Almost. The ring slid onto his fourth finger, the metal cold against his skin, then caught on his second knuckle. Although he had known from the start that it would be too small, Sebastian still felt a pang of disappointment as he stared down at his too-large finger wedged in the dainty band. Not even this fantasy would come true. He hesitantly removed the ring and made to put it in the drawer of his desk, when something stopped him. He had been instructed to keep it, his master had not specified where. Sebastian strode to the small closet, opening the wooden door to reveal a small utilitarian mirror. He reached into a drawer, drawing out a silver chain after a few moments. He strung the ring onto it, and then fastened it about his neck, letting the cold circle settle next to his heart. "If only, Ciel." The demon sighed, buttoning up his shirt to hide the ring from sight. "If only this ring were meant for me."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is short and that I've taken so long to update. The next will be longer. And in two chapters' time it will all be concluded. See you soon ^_^**

His Butler, "Indecent"

Something between them had changed. The ice that had crystallized that day in the drawing room was thawing, if not yet completely gone. Things were still not the way they had once been, Ciel knew that, but they were much better than before. With the slow recommencement of their amiable relations came a surge of productivity for Ciel. He finished his letters to Funtom's employees now, though he still spent much time staring longingly out the window whenever Sebastian stood on the lawn. He spent a lot of time staring at Sebastian, though he always looked away before the man could notice. Ciel heard the door to his office swing open slowly and the almost imperceptible footfalls of his butler on the carpet. Ciel kept his head down to hide the slight flush he could feel on his cheeks, but watched Sebastian intently through the top of his exposed eye. Something about the subtle tilt of his head and the way he held the crisp letter on its silver tray—as if it were something mildly unpleasant, but expected—told Ciel that something was wrong. "A note for you, Bocchan." He said, velvet voice studiedly emotionless, a sure sign of ill news. Ciel glanced up properly to take the letter from the tray. For an instant his eyes met Sebastian's, but he quickly looked away when he felt his face warm yet again. He cursed his pale cheeks and the butterflies in his stomach. The paper was expensive, heavy and cream colored, and marked with tiny, meticulous handwriting that any schoolmaster would have been proud of. The ink was perfectly black, and not smudged or splattered even the tiniest bit. The envelope was un-wrinkled and the note inside was folded exactly down the center with a single precise crease. Ciel did not need to read the postmark to know whom it was from: Lady Frances Midford; matriarch with a spotless iron fist and Elizabeth's mother. He groaned as he read over the note. It displayed his aunt's usual inclination towards brevity and clarity.

Ciel,

We have matters to discuss. Prepare an early tea for tomorrow.

-F.M.

"Why must my meddling family members always come to call on days when I have work to do?"

As it turned out, "early tea" for the Lady Midford meant something more like a late lunch. Had Sebastian not been as experienced as he was, her arrival might have caught him still laying out the tableware. As it was, when Sebastian helped her out of her carriage at 12:45, the scones were already out of the oven and the tea half-steeped. Even so, Lady Midford found a reason to be disappointed in Sebastian's impeccable service. Not only was her four and a half minute wait for her tea "unacceptable", the petit-fours were "ill-befitting a noble household", the china "not very well cared for", and the parlor where she and his master sat stiffly "musty". Whatever complaints she did not voice directly she conveyed by her tone and body language. Sebastian did not stiffen in indignation, though he had every reason too. Even though he served her promptly and politely, however, Lady Midford bestowed on him her most scathing glare of disapproval. Sebastian felt a creeping sense of dread as he poured the steaming white peony tea into Lady Midford's patterned china cup—which was perfectly spotless, for the record. He could tell that his master felt it as well, for Ciel fidgeted in his seat and his pale face was somber in grim anticipation of his aunt's next words. "Ciel," Lady Midford began at last, after an agonizing silence so utter that Sebastian had been forced to breathe regularly. Ciel flinched at the noise, and Sebastian moved almost unconsciously to stand beside him and offer whatever support closeness could give. "I shall not beat about the bush. I have come to speak with you about your engagement." Sebastian almost clenched his teeth, but knew that if anyone were to notice a crack in his aesthetic it would be the marchioness in the starched plum gown. Her voice was curt as ever and Sebastian could not gauge the level of her displeasure. "Elizabeth has explained to me the nature of your relationship, and though I am disappointed that our families could not be joined, the news did not altogether surprise me." At times like these, Sebastian idly wondered if Lady Midford needed to breathe. "Even so, it is my duty to your parents to ensure that you are well settled. It is neither healthy nor proper for a young man to live on his own." "But I'm not—" Ciel began to protest, but attempting to interrupt the marchioness was a bit like trying to cross the path of a stampede of wild horses. "And I shall certainly not allow you to live with only those incompetent servants and that_ indecent_ butler for company." That butler bristled. He had spent nearly an hour slicking his hair back into some semblance of order for the benefit of this lady. All this time he had kept his eyes on Ciel, who was wilting as the steady stream of words engulfed him. When Lady Midford at last paused, the young man looked as if all the life had gone out of him. He was pale and slouched, and did not seem to have the heart to respond to his aunt's tirade. Sebastian knew that wishes were for fools, and yet he wished that he could embrace Ciel and lend him strength.

Her white-gloved hands lay still on the table. They reminded Ciel of dead things, motionless and cold. He sat in dreadful expectation, waiting for the final blow to fall. When he had received the note, Ciel had feared that Lizzie had changed her mind about the marriage and that her mother was going to browbeat him back into the arrangement. At the time it had been his worst fear, but sitting across from that look of resolution framed by a single pale curl, Ciel suddenly thought that marrying Lizzie would not be so terrible. She knew, after all, and perhaps…perhaps what? Perhaps she would allow him to betray their vows? Perhaps she would willingly tie herself to a man who would never love her as she deserved? Happiness always seemed just out of reach. "Sit up straight, Ciel." His aunt snapped. He jerked upright so abruptly that a lock of hair escaped from its forced part and tickled his cheek. Elizabeth's mother made no comment, though her eyes focused on the lock with searing intensity until Ciel brushed it back into place. "And so, in order to solve the issue of your marriage…" Every muscle in Ciel's body was tensed as he waited. "I am organizing a ball at the manor for all the eligible young ladies in the area." Ciel's mouth fell open in surprise and dismay. After a moment of undignified fish-like gulping, he choked out "Here?" Aunt Frances frowned in irritation. "Don't say 'here' so gormlessly. Of course it's to be held here. Where else would we hold a ball intended to find you a fiancée?" For a moment Ciel could not speak. He was overwhelmed by emotions—frustration, disbelief, despair—which moiled within his chest like dark clouds. Even worse was the horrible sense of hopelessness he felt as he looked at his aunt, so self-righteously picking at a tiny blueberry tart. He knew that she meant the best for him, but this matchmaking had to stop. "The date is set for the twenty-fifth. I've already prepared a menu," she laid down a sheaf of papers covered in her precise script. "And the decorators will be arriving the day after tomorrow to take measurements for drapes etc. I've also commissioned you an appropriate suit for the occasion." The words went on and on, pulling insistently at Ciel like the tide and urging him to just give in. "No." Ciel said abruptly, his objection startling himself even more than it did Aunt Frances. A slanted eyebrow quirked momentarily, but she recovered herself. "Don't be ridiculous, Ciel." She replied calmly, replacing her dessert spoon with a deliberate click of silver on the mahogany tabletop. That sound was more mollifying than any chastisement. "Do you think that you can make a decision this important on your own? The invitations have already been sent."

Aunt Frances must have left, for when Ciel became aware of his surroundings again Sebastian was the only other in the room. Ciel sipped at his cold tea, hoping that if he pretended everything was all right it would miraculously become so. That was what demonic butlers were for, weren't they? Miracles? Sebastian paused as he stacked the china back on the ornate trolley. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Ciel wished that he would, he needed to hear Sebastian's voice to ground himself. Sebastian said nothing. And no miracles made the crisp and beribboned invitation that sat next to Ciel's teacup disappear.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Almost done. Enjoy the angst!**

His Butler, Unbreakable

The evening breeze was warm as Sebastian stood in the open doorway of the manor, simultaneously supervising the preparations inside the entrance-hall-turned-ballroom and outside in the garden. Inside, a troop of caterers hired by Lady Midford laid out rows upon rows of covered silver dishes on the white tablecloths. Outside, the decorating team lit candles and arranged flowers in fantastical designs. The manor was a hive of activity; activity pre-ordained by the marchioness, who was blessedly absent for the evening's festivities. Finny, Bard, and Mey-Rin sat dejectedly on the grand staircase. Every few minutes they were forced to shuffle up a few stairs by another decorator or caterer. Sebastian, however dearly he wished not to admit it, identified with their sense of obsolescence. The marchioness had ensured, probably intentionally, that Sebastian had nothing to do with the preparation of the food or the decoration of the manor. Had Sebastian been any less than the butler he was, he would have appreciated the addition of thirty pairs of hands to the grand task of preparing for a ball. As it was, he was painfully aware of his ability to finish the task in half the time it took the human servants. Their mortal slowness irked him and he found himself almost inclined to _fidget _with untapped energy. Phantomhive butlers did not fidget. And yet…the demon found his foot tapping and his mind wandering up the grand staircase and down the corridor towards a certain bedroom door. So, after again assuring himself that no one needed his supervision, he followed. "Go about your business." He remarked to a man whom he could tell was too busy doing just that to listen to anything a butler had to say. Sebastian crept slowly up the stairs. He was suddenly assailed by doubts. Did his master need his assistance? Did he even want it? The closer he got to the bedroom door, the less sure he was. Ciel was so distant, so closed. The marchioness' pronouncement had thrown them almost back into the dark days immediately after _that_. Sebastian longed for his master to only talk to him, and he was aware that Ciel felt the same. But the two never said anything beyond master-servant pleasantries. Sebastian had reached the door. For a brief moment he considered turning and stalking right back down the stairs as if nothing had happened, but he knew the impulse was foolish. But was it more or less foolish than the impulse that made him knock on the door?

Ciel glared at the suit that stretched across his bed. There was nothing _wrong _with it, not like that embarrassing creature Lizzie had bought him all those years ago. It was just so mature, so sober. It had clearly been designed by Aunt Frances herself—it was all blue-grey silk and pinstripes. The navy tie was simple and expensive, with a black pearl pin. Looking at it, Ciel was suddenly afraid that, if he put it on, he might see his father staring back at him from the tall mirror across the room. He looked so much like him already, with only his mother's soulful eyes and a slight softness to his face to break the resemblance. Ciel was not at all sure what he would say to his father's image. I'm sorry? Could those simple words erase the creases of disappointment as if the jilting of Lizzie had been no worse than a broken ink pen? Someone hesitantly knocked on the door. Ciel flinched involuntarily. He was wearing only a starched white shirt, unbuttoned, socks, and his undergarments. The knock came again, more sure of itself this time. He suspected it was Sebastian, and Ciel flushed crimson at the thought of the other seeing him in such a state. He hurriedly buttoned the shirt, which seemed somehow ill-fitting, and stumbled to the door while pulling on his long trousers and shoes. "Just a moment." He called out, voice cracking mortifyingly as he struggled with the doorknob. He pulled the door open and found himself face to face with the demon butler.

Sebastian took in Ciel's appearance, and his doubts temporarily fled. Ciel's face was flushed, his hair so damp that it gleamed jet black in the candlelight. He was but half-dressed, and he seemed to have missed a few buttons when putting on his shirt—wan skin peeked at Sebastian through its folds. Sebastian bit back a chuckle. "Do you need any assistance, Bocchan?" It would be wrong to smile when his master was so clearly distressed, even if his disheveled appearance was an unholy mixture of adorable and… Ciel did not answer, he would not meet Sebastian's eyes. The demon took the anguished silence, and the slight prickle on his contract hand, as acquiescence and entered. The new waistcoat and jacket were on the bed, untouched. Ciel had never been exactly flamboyant, but the demon was quite sure that the staid grey did not suit his master. Still, the marchioness had chosen it and would be displeased if word reached her that her nephew had worn something else. Sebastian sighed inwardly and closed the door gently behind him, then stepped towards Ciel and began to unfasten his shirt. His master's face turned bright red and a sound of protest seemed caught in his throat. Once again Sebastian held back a laugh, though he did allow himself to smile sardonically. "You seem to have missed several buttons in your rush to dress, Bocchan." He mildly teased the young man, who was as outwardly flustered by Sebastian's closeness as Sebastian was inwardly. The demon tried very hard not to think about how close they stood—only eight inches—or how Ciel's hair smelled—like lavender bath salts and the sweet hint of soul—or how it would feel to run ungloved fingertips over the skin he was now chastely covering with starched cotton—unthinkably lovely. It was the only time Sebastian had ever tried and failed. Sebastian tucked in the shirt, then grabbed the waistcoat from the bed and shook away any tiny wrinkles with practiced hands. He kept his eyes on his work, though he could feel Ciel's mismatched eyes watching him intently. It was almost like old times again. The threat of the ball gave them a common enemy and left them companions once more. For the first time in a while, the silence was not awkward. Sebastian fastened the waistcoat's ivory buttons, and then added the jacket—whose coattails reached the backs of Ciel's knees. He tied the tie in a neat bow around the pleated collar and added the pin. Then he gently placed the black silk eye patch over the luminous contract. Ciel did not look like himself, and when he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror he looked positively terrified. The last thing Sebastian wanted was to send Ciel downstairs to his fate—a flurry of women that the demon could already hear alighting from carriages—but he knew he was only being selfish. Those ladies were his master's only chance, after all. They were his only chance to live a normal life, to fill the manor with the laughter that had been so cruelly snatched away from it, to have happiness and family once more. Sebastian could offer none of that. He was but a specter of death, a looming reminder of the blood that soaked Ciel's early life. It was time for his Bocchan to move on, and it was Sebastian's duty to let him. "If I may be so bold," Sebastian said gently as he straightened his master's tie unnecessarily, "as to make an observation." Ciel did not respond, he still stared despondently at his reflection in the full-length mirror, so the butler again took his silence as acquiescence. He might later admit to himself that he had that he let his hand linger at Ciel's pale throat for a moment longer than necessary while he spoke, hiding his sadness with a smile. "It is a ball, Bocchan, not an execution. It would not kill you,"

Ciel's reverie was broken by the ever so gentle brush of satin on his right cheek as Sebastian's hand ghosted across it. The touch, though so soft it could have been a warm draft of air, made heat rise in Ciel's face again. In the mirror he could see his cheeks turn rosy as Sebastian finished his sentence: "to smile." The edges of the demon's mouth were turned upwards slightly and his eyes glittered darkly in the candlelight. They met Ciel's for a moment, and Ciel forgot the disapproving face in the mirror and the helplessness of having succumbed to the tide of propriety. The very fact that they could look at each other like this again—for a moment without feelings of hurt or guilt—made Ciel smile. Then someone knocked loudly on the door and the touch was gone. He and Sebastian were eight inches apart, and those eight inches seemed infinite. The door opened and Mey-Rin's bespectacled face poked in. Upon seeing Sebastian, she blushed and struggled to tell Ciel: "Your guests are arriving." Then she disappeared, leaving Ciel agitatedly clenching his fists. He turned back to Sebastian, who still stared at him, though he was no longer smiling. He looked almost as unenthusiastic as Ciel was sure he himself did. "Are you leading me to the gallows then, Sebastian?" He asked in a tone of morbid playfulness, grasping at the fading feeling of warmth in the room. His butler looked away before answering: "I'm afraid I have things to attend to. Besides, you do not need me by your side to greet your guests." Ciel wanted to tell him that he _did _need him, desperately, by his side tonight, but Sebastian had already left the room.

Ciel had never felt so lonely as he did gliding down the grand staircase towards the gaily-decorated ballroom. The room was alight with candles that glittered from every table and wall. The great dark columns were garlanded, the floor polished to a mirror-like perfection that doubled the already too-large number of guests in the room. Each eligible young lady had brought with her a stuffy mother or stuffy aunt to chaperone, as well as a loud assortment of brothers, sisters, siblings' spouses, and cousins. Ciel was thankful only that children would be in bed at this hour, and so there was no one screaming underneath the tables laden with hors d'oeuvres. As he descended the stairs, sweaty hand that ached for his walking stick gripping the banister instead, talk in the room quieted. All eyes were on him. He could feel the judgments being made on his blue-grey hair, his costly suit, his eye patch. He could hear the gossip rustle through the assembly like a breeze through an autumnal wood. He reached the bottom of the stairs and even the gossip died away. There was an awkward moment before Ciel realized that they wanted him to say something. He could feel himself flushing in embarrassment and wished his cheeks weren't so bloody pale. Ciel's mind was blank and his throat was dry. What was he supposed to say? They all knew who he was and what this was all about. He glanced to where Sebastian should have been, by his side, but the space was empty. He had never been comfortable with public speaking. He had, on one occasion, even made Tanaka represent him to a newsman. _Take a deep breath._ Suggested the reassuring voice inside his head that sounded like Sebastian's. Ciel took a deep breath. "Welcome," he said at last, voice sounding pitifully small as it echoed in the large space. "Welcome to my home…Phantomhive manor…" Ciel cast about frantically for inspiration. His eyes fell on the food. "I hope that you enjoy the refreshments provided by my staff…" he glanced about again and saw a man in black unpacking his violin, "and the music provided by the musicians…" The crowd was growing restless, so he decided to wrap it up. "Have a lovely evening."

Sebastian spied from afar as his master greeted his guests one by one. The first introduction was awkward, but soon Ciel slid into the role of noble host. It was not difficult to imagine an older Ciel arm in arm with a richly dressed woman as he engaged in polite chatter with respectable people. Sebastian did not allow himself to imagine his own tall form next to his master's. Such a vision was too ridiculous even for his selfish fantasies. He watched as Ciel met with each young maiden. He was appropriately forward, they appropriately bashful. After a while Sebastian could see Ciel beginning to tire of each mechanical encounter, of dancing around any genuine sentiments like clockwork figurines. Sebastian was tired of them as well, tired of feeling every sweet-voiced "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Phantomhive." like a dagger shoved into his chest. He wanted to do something to stop this, but he had sworn to himself not to do anything. He was not going to be selfish or weak anymore. He was going to act as befitting a Phantomhive butler and as befitting a demon of his stature. That was all. And yet, when the music took on the distinct character of a waltz and his master paired with a doll-like green-eyed brunette, Sebastian wanted to charge out and snatch Ciel away from the girl. He watched their synchronized forms drift across the dance floor—teal petticoats and pinstriped grey whirling further and further away from him—with a pain in his chest. Suddenly someone's stout mother moved in front of his hiding place, obscuring his master from view. This would _not_ do. In the most foolish maneuver Sebastian had ever performed, he swept out of his hiding place, grabbed Mey-Rin—who had been "straightening" tableware nearby—by the hand, and slipped onto the dance floor. "S-S-SEBASTIAN?!" The tomato-red maid blurted in confusion. Sebastian slid his other hand around Mey-Rin's waist, causing her mouth to fall open, as he waltzed them towards a place where he could see Ciel. "You don't mind dancing with me, do you?" Sebastian purred with a slightly cruel sparkle in his eye. He knew exactly what effect he was having on the redhead, and used it to his advantage. "N-n-no! I mean- Yes! I mean- I don't mind!" Mey-Rin spluttered as the demon scanned the crowd for a shock of blue-grey hair. They skirted by the kitchen doors, which smelled a bit odd, like something was burning. Then Ciel's face came into view—ashen and miserable. He was quite near, only a few couples away from Sebastian. And then something exploded, and it was all Sebastian could do to fly towards his master before it all went to hell.

A deafening boom.

Fire.

Ciel's feet were not on the ground.

The scent of burning.

Darkness.

Ciel opened his eyes, slowly. The first things he saw were the two pools of concerned burgundy just above him. His chest felt tight, and the feeling was not entirely due to the weight of another chest warmly pressing down on it. After a moment, the mouth that belonged to those eyes—the mouth which was so sinfully close to his own—asked "Bocchan, are you all right?" It took Ciel's explosion-addled brain a long time to get over the exquisite feeling of Sebastian's warm breath on his lips and that of the heart that thudded in time with his own. The scent of Sebastian enveloped him, and Ciel once again thought of wildness and confections. "I'm fine." He finally managed to choke out. It was difficult to speak, and he suddenly realized that Sebastian's weight was not the only weight crushing him. The other man noticed, and looked slightly guilty. "I apologize for your discomfort. I appear to be trapped underneath some sort of stone slab." Ciel dragged his eyes away from Sebastian for a moment, and saw that he was right. A very large chunk of plaster and stone, the girth of three men, rested on Sebastian's back. A bit of a wainscoting on the edge alerted Ciel to the fact that it was a piece of the wall that had separated the kitchen and entrance hall. Worry suddenly gripped him, and his eyes scoured his butler for injuries. A chuckle from the other sent vibrations through his chest. The feeling was quite pleasant, Ciel thought absently, as his conscious mind satisfied itself that Sebastian seemed unharmed. "No piece of wall will prevent a Phantomhive butler from performing his duties," Sebastian replied to Ciel's unspoken concern. "Just a moment." Ciel could feel the other man's muscles straining against the obstacle. A hidden part of him relished the previously unrecognized thinness of silk and cotton, while the rest of him analyzed what he could see in the periphery. Clouds of dust floated thickly in the air, obscuring almost everything. Shards of rubble poked into his back uncomfortably. A few ghostly shapes moved in the dimness—brave guests trying to find the source of all this commotion. Something was on fire. Suddenly, something small and smooth fell from Sebastian's tattered shirt and came to rest in the hollow between Ciel's collarbones. He looked up at Sebastian, who had frozen with something unreadable on his face, then down at the glittering object.

There was a long silence, in which Sebastian did not know what to do. A very large part of him simply wanted to lift the stone, re-conceal the engagement ring that now glimmered against Ciel's pale exposed skin, and run as far away from that questioning look in his master's eyes as possible. But… "You kept it." Ciel whispered, warm breath against Sebastian's cheek. The sensation made him shiver, and he hoped the young man beneath him thought the tremor came from exertion. Ciel's eye patch was askew, and his bright mismatched eyes stared at Sebastian. He could not read all the emotions swirling there, but he could feel the young man's heart beat hard and fast in his chest. He fought to keep his own heartbeat slow. "Of course." The demon replied, voice lower and huskier than he had intended. He was lost in Ciel's eyes, searching for something in those wide expanses of violet and blue. They were so very close, he thought he could feel Ciel's dark eyelashes brush him as he blinked. At his response, Ciel's cheeks colored a delicate pink and his eyes became even more turbulent. Then Sebastian's niggling sense of propriety took over and he looked away. "You asked me to." That was what he, a Phantomhive butler, was supposed to say in this situation. So that is what he said. Then, to end the conversation before either of them said anything regretful, he mustered all his (considerable) strength and shifted the hunk of wall that trapped him on top of his master. As he stood, it hit the ground with an earth-shattering thud and cracked into smaller pieces on impact. A new cloud of dust blissfully shielded Sebastian from the terrible beauty of his master's eyes. Any other man would have been dead, and any other demon would have shrieked at the agony of reconstructing his fragmented spine and crushed ribs in a few seconds, but Sebastian did not let even a wince flicker across his features to betray the excruciating pain. Well, maybe a wince, but he made sure that his master did not see it. He bent down and offered a hand to Ciel, who was still on the ground. He took it, and Sebastian could feel the warmth of his skin through the gloves. When his young master was upright Sebastian dropped his hand quickly and surveyed the damage to the ballroom so that he would not have to face him again. But as he made to tuck away the ring, which still dangled on its chain, Ciel spoke tentatively. "Was that the only reason?" His voice was still low, intimate. For a moment Sebastian was not sure how to respond. He glanced back at the young man who stood so close, and yet so far, from him. His cheeks were still flushed, but his eyes were turned to the ground. Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it. It was improper. It was against his aesthetic. It was showing weakness and selfishness, yet again. But he could not lie. "No." he muttered. Then he walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: All fans of this story, thank you so much for encouraging me! This is the longest fanfiction I have ever done, and I have a tendency to start things and not finish them. It has been great reading your reviews and hearing your ideas **

His Butler, Unmasked

Ciel stood dazed and swaying in the midst of the smoke and rubble. He was unsure how much of his state was due to shock from the explosion and how much was due to the look of intensity in Sebastian's wine-dark eyes. What had he meant by "No"? Why had he kept the ring, and kept it so close? Ciel could not pretend that he had not wished Sebastian would do so when he had left in on the table, but to wish and to see the ring around his neck were different things…Someone tugged at his tattered sleeve and Ciel was reminded that he had just survived an explosion. This was not the time to dwell on such things. Rubble coated the polished ballroom floor like sand, and dust made the air difficult to breathe. The kitchen was in flames and its blistering heat made Ciel's eyes water even from afar. Sebastian was much closer, almost in the blazing kitchen, as he doused the flames with copious amounts of water brought to him in large buckets by a singed Finny. Someone tugged at Ciel's sleeve again. He turned to see a respectable elderly lady in what had once been an elegant gown of navy silk. "Lord Phantomhive," she began, tone stern. Ciel sighed and pretended to listen politely as she explained with awful coldness that he was "putting well-born young ladies in danger with your perilous (and disreputable) lifestyle." It took nearly two hours to put out the flames, two hours Ciel spent being accosted by guests. Fortunately, most of the guests had been far from the blast and suffered only from shock and indignation. Only those ten closest to the blast that had demolished the wall were injured. There were a few burns, bruises, sprains, and one broken arm belonging to Victoria—Ciel's dancing partner. Even in pain, Victoria was mild-mannered and polite, telling Ciel that such things could not be helped and it was not his fault. She said it as mechanically as she had said everything else that evening, and Ciel was forced to respond in kind and ignore the glint of dispassionate hatred in her green eyes. After the initial shock, the guests were all quiet and orderly. They waited politely to approach Ciel, then smiled and accepted his apologies frigidly, all the while preparing the gossip they would spread. Ciel did not care what they said, did not care if it made him a pariah in polite company. If these people, with their genteel animosity, were polite company, he was happy to be rid of it. "Bocchan," said a soft voice from behind him, "I seem to have found the cause of the explosion."

Ciel turned away from a mustached gentleman, who subtly shielded his pale-eyed sister, to see Bard, hair blackened and eyebrows noticeably absent, standing sheepishly in front of Sebastian. Bard explained, under Sebastian's furious glare, that had been instructed by a caterer to clean up the kitchen. The caterers had made a great number of pastries, and Bard had decided it would be a good idea to clean up the excess flour with a flamethrower. Ciel was too exhausted to be angry, so he told Bard to just go and not to destroy anything else. The ball, the explosion, Sebastian: it was all too much to handle. He felt as if his spine had been removed and at any moment his skin would stop holding its human shape and slide down into a puddle on the ground. Towards midnight, all the guests left and Ciel was finally able to climb the long steps to his bedroom. In the darkness, for the candles had all burnt out, he collapsed onto his bed. "They stayed so long it almost seemed like a proper ball." A velvet voice chuckled from near the door. A match flickered to life and transferred its brilliance to a candelabrum held by a guiltily amused-looking Sebastian. Somehow, Ciel found the energy to laugh. It was, he realized, the first time he had laughed all evening. Sebastian placed the candelabrum on the bedside table, then lit the fire. Ciel watched him, his fluid, almost feline movements. His black suit was ripped and grey from flour and plaster dust, but to Ciel did not mind. After a night full of charades, it was nice to see his butler—at least partially—unmasked. Ciel was so tired of masks and shams. They had only caused him unhappiness, and he was beginning to believe that that was not what he deserved. And so he resolved to be honest.

"I can't marry one of these women, Sebastian." Ciel's voice cut through the night unexpectedly. Sebastian started, then was surprised at himself for showing his surprise. Oh well. His master had looked so exhausted that Sebastian was sure he had missed the momentary crack in the façade. Sebastian kept his voice smooth and face towards the young fire. "The explosion was an unfortunate occurrence, perhaps not endearing you to the noble families present, but there will be other young ladies willing to wed you." Sebastian's voice stayed steady, even though the thought of watching another ball—and eventually a wedding—from the shadows made him feel cold inside. When he was sure he was composed, Sebastian turned to the young man who had been splayed on the bedspread. He was sitting up now, cheeks a bit flushed and blue eye bright with an emotion Sebastian could not fathom. The eye patch was slightly askew, revealing a glint of sparkling violet iris. The suit that Lady Midford had commissioned from London was torn and stained, though perhaps salvageable by Sebastian's hand. Sebastian was unsure he wanted to salvage it, though. He would have preferred to leave it, and the memory associated with it, in some forgotten corner of the cellar. But, if a Phantomhive butler could not even do this…He reached out to take the jacket from Ciel, who did not seem to notice the gesture. He had that curious inattentive look of one who is about to do something very brave or very foolish. Sebastian waited; despite himself he wanted to know which it would be. There was a silly fluttering in his abdomen; though he _knew_ whatever Ciel was pondering had nothing to do with him. His hand was still extended towards his unresponsive master when the young man blurted at last: "It's not that." Once again, Sebastian was startled and confused by his master. He had thought that the sullen exhaustion had been due to the catastrophic ball—yet another reminder of how far Ciel's reality deviated from that of his delicate, green-eyed dancing partner. He led a life that was not really conducive to a family, however much the marchioness wished otherwise. "It's not that." Ciel repeated, more steadily this time. But what could be troubling him if it wasn't his ever-diminishing chance of marrying and leading a stable life? Perhaps…No. Sebastian would not allow himself to follow that train of thought. He dragged his thoughts back to mending the grey suit. Much of the damage was merely staining, though he would have to reweave a portion of the left knee. Ciel was looking at him. He had taken off his eye patch and slid the small item through his slim fingers, almost nervously. The butler withdrew his hand slowly, waiting. And then Ciel spoke, quietly, but deliberately. "I can never love one of them." His hands stilled, then clenched, crushing the patch. Sebastian regarded him, unable to do anything else. He was suddenly so conscious of the measured rise and fall of Ciel's chest that he himself forgot to breathe. "I can never love some cold, proper creature with whom I always have to hold my tongue and pretend to be someone I'm not." A long pause. The firelight made their shadows dance. His master's voice was louder when he spoke again. "I can never love one of them because…" At some point Ciel must have stood, for now he was impossibly close to Sebastian. The demon could count his eyelashes, could feel the other man's breaths mingling with his own. "because they aren't you, Sebastian." Sebastian's heart was pounding at an alarming pace. He…what…? "Ciel?" He exclaimed before he could stop himself. He felt his face heat up—a decidedly unfamiliar sensation—in mortification. He had broken protocol. The name had slipped out in his surprise, but…it was delicious to say it at last.

Ciel felt warmth spread all the way to his fingertips at the sound of his name. It had never sounded as wonderful as just then, coming from Sebastian's lips. He heard it and he felt brave. Finally brave enough to say what he had meant to say for a very long time. "I love you, Sebastian." There was no quaver in his voice. He smiled and said it again. Sebastian was trembling. His dark eyes sparkled as he stared at Ciel with a mixture of astonishment and joy. He reached out with a hand and stroked Ciel's cheek. The contact was like a spark, setting Ciel's entire being on fire. "Do you mean it?" his voice was hoarse, "Do you mean it this time?" Ciel wrapped his arms around Sebastian and his eyes prickled. "I've always meant it. I—" But Sebastian interrupted with a kiss that swept Ciel up and away into its depths as surely as any tidal wave. Compared to this, their first kiss had been nothing: a mere peck on the cheek and a promise of more to come. Ciel could not tell where he ended and Sebastian began, which pounding heartbeat was his own and which the other's. His fingers wove through silken black hair and roved across cool cheeks. This was not a gentle kiss, and when they broke apart Ciel was gasping. It was not feverish, asthmatic gasping, though, but excited and exhilarating. His entire body was filled with a tingling heat centered around the points where he and Sebastian were connected. The demon looked down at Ciel, his expression for once perfectly readable. "I love you too, Ciel."


End file.
